


in a hurry

by laura_waterhouse



Category: The Office (US) RPF
Genre: F/M, The Office
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-05
Updated: 2014-06-05
Packaged: 2018-02-03 12:32:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1744766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laura_waterhouse/pseuds/laura_waterhouse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>mindy expects, bj has other plans</p>
            </blockquote>





	in a hurry

**Author's Note:**

> Most fics I read are about really hot, passionate/kinky sex. So I try on a different take. This is supposed to be a short rant/smutfest, but when I tried to put a little sense into it, Mindy Kaling took over and made it all about herself.

I blame all the Harlequin novels I had ever read for expecting rough, strong hands. That lanky veterinarian? Oh, he channels king of the jungle in bed. The wimpy four eyed paralegal? Thank goodness for all the human rights Guantanamo Bay cases coz he knows his ways with handcuffs and blindfolds. The librarian who looks like his pupils are perpetually dilated because of the dim lights at the archaeology section? Don’t let yourself be caught up reading on your own too late coz he definitely got some Indiana Jones whip stashed in the bookshelves somewhere. Okay so I might be reading (listening/watching) more than Harlequin novels, but really, this is my first time, so I think my expectations are relatively low. Is it too much to ask for more than the lump of Gummy Bears roaming around my body from a cute, popular college boy from the Harvard Spanish Literature department? His fingers are so light and soft, it’s impossible, I mean, doesn’t he even have bones? I was not hoping (ok, I fancied a little) him to turn up with a black bandana at my doorstep and undress me in a swordfight like Antonio Banderas (which is a shame because it took me forever to find Catherine Zeta-Jones’ like undergarments in eBay), but I was not expecting feeble hands like Don Quixote either. I guess I have resigned to my fate the moment I consented to continue on the date with this pale, delicate Jewish boy… coz really, he could pass up for Leo and the rivalry of our schools is too much like Romeo and Juliet.   
The fact that I am aware enough to be making such evaluations on his physical attributes should say something about this experience. I thought I would drown in the sensation, get a massive case of ASMR, but here I am formulating an essay in my head while his frustratingly soft hands cup my insides through my shirt. Maybe I am just over thinking. I have to find a way to enjoy this. I find myself doing what I have read/watched so much about: faking orgasms. Well, in this case, just moans, coz we are not there yet and it would be weird. I am not sure, but maybe I would have moaned without faking anyway, but I guess I wouldn't know now… damn too much sexual education from media. Well, I decide to put into practice another thing I've learned: I let my hand travel down between us, below his belt. Again, I am disappointed, is everything about him soft? The prudish part of me suddenly spoke: maybe he is not thinking of having sex with you tonight? Should I be insulted or flattered? This could mean more to him than just sex, this could be something sweet like getting intimate. Jumping me into the bed is not the only thing on his mind, although we are already in my bed? Maybe he still got some respect for you? Oh well, too late now for all thoughts of respect, as he starts grinding against my hand, which I find to be more annoying. It’s unlikely but I’d really hate it if the friction of his uncomfortable jeans would bruise my skin. He looks delirious though and being the good girl that I am, I try giving him a massage, well, more of I try to locate him under his really thick jeans first. We weren't kissing anymore, and he abandons trying to get his fingers under my shirt (the fact that he had some struggle doing it really irritates me coz it should really be easy), we are just both concentrating on him, and I feel like I've been put on the spot and being judged on my massaging skills, and I cannot feel him responding to my touches, which frustrates and embarrasses me or... is he just really small?  
I am not enjoying this anymore and am seriously thinking of ending this whole thing. Maybe I'm not really supposed to be doing this. This is immoral and a sin, and I am not getting pleasure enough to compensate going to hell for---according to our housekeeper, who is the only Catholic person I know. But I want to do this. I am not entering my college sophomore year still a virgin. And he’s got to fly in two days to LA for an internship with fucking Greg Daniels this school break. His name dropping Greg Daniels is I guess actually the reason I put up with how obnoxious he is, because maybe I can use the connection and all. But this internship also gives a very slim window period for my devirginizing plan. And I won’t have enough time to go on another five – making sure he is not a serial murderer - dates in the remaining two weeks I have before my parents carry me off to India for my cousin’s wedding. And the half-dead part of my head that always ignored all good counsel decides to see this through.   
I pull his head with my other hand and crash kisses into his lips. Our previous kisses were always fun, hot and (always following a shouting match because of his outrageous political views and natural douchebag-ness) angry, and had always left me aroused, and unfortunately, that wrongly raised my expectations for further activities. His tongue works its magic through the caverns of my mouth and I find myself being turned on again. I decide that his mouth is better than his hands. I feel a jolt of excitement when thoughts of what his mouth can do to me go through my mind. I push his mouth down into my neck. His one hand tries to get me to resume palming his groin while his other flimsy hand starts to rub through my shirt again. But his hands just don't do it for me and I am getting impatient, and if he can just replicate the way he semi-suck, semi-bite my tongue…   
So I push him and take my top off on my own. I do it really quickly, and I imagine, pretty savagely, but I decide that I would be less ashamed if I get to it faster. Besides, this is not some romantic moment we are sharing. I want to say we are horny as hell, but I am not…yet… but I just really want to have sex. With that in mind, I undo my front hook, swipe my bra cups aside and then pull his head down to my chest, looking everywhere but his face. I think he is stunned that he stopped halfway down to me, taking his time to stare at my bare boobs, his blue eyes getting dark with lust. This is painfully long, and embarrassing but also very hot. When he finally moves, he does not go directly to my nipples, but to the lower curve of my left breast, kissing with his lips closed, and then licking twice, and then finally taking the whole portion below my areola into his mouth. Inside his mouth, I feel his tongue swirling, then his teeth. I am sure I am not fake moaning anymore. He then cups the same breast, squeezes it, making the nipple protrude then starts licking it. He looks into my eyes and that added some extra punch to the sensation and I am swimming in ecstasy.  
He tugs at my hand, prompting me to help him out of his jeans. He arches on top of me for easier access. I try for his buttons, but it is hard to get it off with just one hand (my other one, busy guiding his bobbing head on my breast), so I go ahead pulling down his zippers... I can feel him now, he is no longer soft. I reach inside, while he transferred to my other boob.  
"Don’t do that just yet,” he scolds me in his I know so much better than you do tone. I am getting angry again. “I need to get out of this first." He says and pushes himself up, making me miss his mouth right away.   
It’s weird how we are not talking through all of this. I mean we are usually firing cylinders at each other, and not in a good way. He is always so insulting in his calm but “I am hammering nails into your ego” kind of way. I was so angry with him on our first date, if we did not kiss, I would have asked my brother’s fraternity to beat him up and, of course, we would have never gone out again. But doing all of these to each other without saying anything, it’s like we are taking some final exam, serious and concentrating on our papers and not allowed to chat to each other. I mean, if I am not watching porno stuff, how should I know how to proceed without him giving verbal instructions?  
Anyway, next thing I know he is out of his jeans already, probably swooped out of it along with his briefs that I do not see anymore. Ok this is it; there is a naked penis near my face. He pulls at his shirt, threw it away and, being fully naked, climbs back up on my bed to pull at my silk shorts. I don’t know if it is on purpose but he left my panty on. I look to check out what he is seeing down there: a white lacy panty that contrasted sharply against my dark oversized thighs. I should have worn black. He does not seem to mind though as he settles between my legs and starts to kiss the inside of my thighs, agonizingly slowly inching his lips to my - I now notice - wet mound. Ok, how does he know how to do that? Well, he is a guy, so he watches porn too. But, I guess I wanted him to be not that kind of guy. He always appeared to be this straight, no-nonsense, idealistic Jew who loves politics and literature and can read Lolita (his favorite book) for the insights, humor and literary value and not for the sexual content at all. Did he do these to his ex girlfriends? I always thought he is too much of a nerd to be even necking his exes. Wait; does doing this with him make me his girlfriend now? I certainly want to stake some claim on his talented mouth.  
He pushes my panty on the side, and there, his tongue is on me. I tried to buck into him but he kept my hips down and gave me a grin. Evil. He knows he is in control now. He went down again and planted tame kisses on my insides.  
"Suck me please," I beg before I could stop myself. I feel laughter between my thighs, not some sexy manly smug groan, just laughter. But I do not care right now. I need more contact, he is just torturing me with closed mouth kisses... I push his head down to prevent him from parting with my skin again…then his phone rings.  
"Shit! That's my ringtone for Greg Daniels!" He springs his head up immediately.  
"No, no, no... don’t stop, I’ll kill you." I encircle my legs around his neck to pull him back down but he resists.  
"I have to get that… been waiting for that the whole day." He frees himself from me, scoots to the other side of the bed to grab his phone, then sits on that other side, resting his back on the headboard and calming his breath down before answering.  
“I doubt that is even Greg Daniels, probably just one of his assistants.” I pout. Then, I climb on top of him, avoiding his groin and sitting on his abdomen, planting kisses on his neck. He is gesturing me to stop with his hands while he struggles to sound all professional, which I think he doesn't have to. What? It’s like 1 am; his boss should be embarrassed for calling this late. He pushes my lips away so I decide to go down on him. I am at eye level with the lower part of his anatomy and I start to stroke him. Looking at his penis, I still don’t understand how anyone could enjoy giving blowjobs, but I am getting really curious and also excited to make a big Hollywood exec hear his moans. My tongue has only slightly touched him when he forcefully pushes me off. Then he stands up from the bed then locks himself in MY bathroom.   
Really? I am pissed, but still very horny and overall frustrated.   
I get up and grab a towel and walk out to the fridge. I dig into the ice cream he brought. After four spoonfuls, I realize I am just making myself fat, so I stop. I scoop the rest of the contents of the tub into the sink, because I am really angry and I do not want to be tempted into eating that again. I was on a really tough belly losing regimen in anticipation for tonight and he just totally ruined it.  
I walk back into my room to find him putting his clothes on.  
"I need to get home to look at some files. He wants me to send in a sketch I sent last week but he accidentally deleted. Too bad I did not bring my laptop. Can you believe it? He remembers one particular sketch from me."  
"Good thing you didn't bring it, because I would have thrown it out the window," I angrily throw his shoes at him. I let him bring his shoes into my room and he does this to me. I really want to cry now. I slump on the bed and bury my head on the pillow, because I am seeing black right now and if I do not use the pillow for this, I will certainly use it to choke him.  
He pulls me up to a sitting position then sits on his knees on the floor to look up at me. "Don’t be angry, besides, I doubt you’ll like me very much if I lose that internship, won’t you? Just forgive me this one, I’ll make it up to you."  
“When? There’s no more time.”  
“Well, you have to wait a little while. But I promise I’ll be hotter when I am all tan and I’ve got the Hollywood flair back from LA.”  
Back from LA? I won’t be waiting for you, you idiot. I can hardly tolerate you. And you basically lose all purpose you have in my life if you don’t take away my virginity before the summer. I don’t want to talk anymore; I wish he'd just hurry out of my place. I still am not talking when he finishes getting dressed. He walks up to me and leans down. I try to avoid his face but his hands keep me in place. So now his hands are suddenly a lot stronger. He gives me a long forehead kiss.  
"Walk me out?" he says sweetly.  
Gosh, I don’t even like him, but that gets me into my feet and into my door. He plants more kisses on my neck before he leaves and that gets me all hot again, but he really goes home and I go straight to the shower.


End file.
